


nfwmb

by foxika (kylonaberrie)



Series: clone-centric abo: one-shots from the discord [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Clone Sex, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Exhibitionism, Knotting, M/M, Minor Violence, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Pack Dynamics, Shower Sex, Top Cody, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Vaginal Sex, background OCs - Freeform, bottom wolffe, fucking your bestie into temporarily forgetting his situational depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylonaberrie/pseuds/foxika
Summary: Wolffe needs to get out of his head.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: clone-centric abo: one-shots from the discord [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028481
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	nfwmb

**Author's Note:**

> title from [nfwmb by hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YnHZhrfAJE) which is kinda the ultimate cloneship song imo but its what i was listening to for most of this & contributed to the Vibes
> 
> there's some blood/violence, adjunct to the sex though, no rough sex here
> 
> uhhh theyre like ~8.5 & still on kamino. once again im like, im here at abo.com for the double gender and the pussies but the pack dynamics? thats just canon babey

The evenings Kote spends with the Alphas you spend on solo sims, throwing yourself in vicious til you know he'll be heading back, then nail the target and book it back to catch him alone in the showers. You've gotten good at it, the timing, or he's just started waiting for you, though sometimes you're early. Not tonight though. He knows how to trick the system into shutting off the main lights and going on aux, and you like that too, the low light and him bathed in soft teal that catches reflective in the water.

He watches you as you enter, dripping wet under the showerhead and beautiful. His eyes follow you as you come closer, and you meet them for a moment, all the acknowledgement you need before you're in his space and nuzzling along his jaw, licking, kissing down to his neck and slotting your head there against his shoulder. He hums, and you can feel it vibrate in his throat.

'What's wrong?' he asks gently. His lips brush against your forehead.

You nuzzle his neck, still rich with the smell of him with no soap covering it. Bite him gently on the shoulder, not wanting to answer him. He doesn't indulge you, because he never indulges you, the bastard, nosing insistently against your head. You almost bite him again, but you don't. You're not interested in a fight you know he's going to win. Instead you move with him, let him push you off his shoulder and position your face with his so your foreheads and noses are slotted together. 'What's wrong?' he asks again, lower this time, warning you not to make him ask again, as if you had it in you to fight him tonight.

'Tired,' you whisper against his skin, against the corner of his mouth where the cameras won't catch it. 'M'tired of this.'

He ducks his head to bite your neck tenderly, strong jaw reassuring, pressing hard enough to bruise but not to really hurt. You lift your head to the ceiling, baring yourself to him, letting your eyes fall closed, cutting off sight so all you are is the feel and sound of water and and smell of the both of you and the plastic floor and the cool air, and him. You hum for him, low and slow, feel the way your throat vibrates against his teeth.

He stays there for a long moment before repositioning, biting just the same further down. You breathe deep and careful, willing him to become everything to you. He repositions again to suck on the spot where your throat becomes your jaw, and you let your breath catch, let a small whimper escape you.

'What do you need?' he asks against your throat, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you can feel the vibrations.

'I don't know,' you whisper back, head still tilted to the cloud cover, even though you do know, you know a lot of things. You don't mean it as a lie; it's just the easiest answer you know how to give.

'You do,' he insists, and bites the front of your throat this time.

'You,' you gasp, because that's the second easiest thing, and it's not a lie either, now that he's here and his lips are on your body and you can feel and smell him you want nothing more than to lose yourself in him forever, need and want curling inside you, and you want for that to be it, for your world and life to consist of his body pressed against yours.

He mouths against the hollow of your throat. 'Will that fix it?' he asks.

'No,' you tell him, word like a plea, nothing but the truth. You don't know what will fix it, do know it, know it in your core but don't know it in words. 'But it's what I want.'

He hums thoughtfully against your throat. 'Please,' you say, not just because you know that'll reel him in the rest of the way. He laughs softly, and steers you by the shoulders and pushes you against the wall.

You open your eyes at that, desire pressing needy up into you, look down at him as he turns his attention to your collarbones, mouths along them. You want more of him touching you but you also know you'll get exactly what he gives you and could never be content with anything more or less. There's a serenity about it tonight, that has you pushing into his touch but not whining or wriggling for more. He takes care of you, Kote. It'll be okay, at least up until he's finished.

You're patient and impatient at once and he knows it, like he knows almost everything. It's how he always wins. But he doesn't spend too long on any one part of you, lingering just long enough to make you start to squirm before moving. He sucks on one of your nipples next, doesn't nip, just circles it with his tongue, hands still pressing you against the cool wall and you still pressing back against his warm hands as your breath stutters. He gives the same amount of attention to the other nipple and you keep staying still for him, your weight shifting across your feet and curling toes as you resist rocking into him, squirming with want but not willing to divert this from anything but what he's decided it should be, cock hardening fully in the small space between you.

'I think it'll help more than you think it will,' he says against your skin, trailing kisses lower, and trailing his hands down too, trusting you to stay put against the wall. 'Look how much you need this.' He presses his tongue to the flat of your belly, licking a slow, reverent stripe before going to bite your hips, one, then the other. You breathe a whimper in agreement, and he laughs, vibrations against your skin. You can smell how into this he is too, the shower lighting it all up in the low teal light, you and him.

He grins up at you from his knees. Everything you might normally respond with is lost to you in the moment and instead you wind up letting your tongue fall from your open mouth in a weird pant, and his grin turns evil, a flash of fangs. He knows he’s got you, that you’re his, his second, his bitch, and you know you won’t have it in you to challenge him on it til you come, and possibly not even then, tonight.

You can’t do a damn thing about it, about anything you’re doing, but part of you feels that might not be so bad, because his mouth is warm and soft and willing and he slides it down onto you, your moan louder than the falling water. You have enough in you for the decision to curl in and look down at him instead of arching back, his hair plastered wet to his head and one of your hands combing into it, a loose hold that just gets you feeling him, the give of his scalp, him warm and alive, and the movement of his head, quickly losing it all in comparison to his tongue and his mouth and the slight scrape of teeth to remind you who you are and where you are and whose you are.

‘Kote--’ your voice shakes into another moan. One of his hands is still holding firm to your hip, pressing hard with no nails, the other reappearing between your thighs, thumb drawing a line against your cunt before pushing a couple fingers in. ‘Kote, Kote, Kote, please, fuck yes--’ There’s the empty pushing desperately aroused feeling rutting up inside of you as he sucks you off, as more moans and pleas fall from your lips. You want him in you, you want something in you, you don’t have any condoms right now unless he has them and you don’t know it and you do and don’t want this, too smart to want this but want him filling you--

He presses his fingers in deeper, scissors them, gently feeling you out, slips them out to come back with three while his tongue keeps taking you apart, and fuck fucking his cock you will take his hand as he curls it and rubs and finds the right spots. You cry out, not there yet but close, repeating his name, repeating fuck fuck fuck fuck. You’ve lost all control of your fucking body, head arched back against the tile, biting one hand while the other clings to his hair, one of your fangs piercing the skin and tasting iron in with the smells and the water and him, him, him, and a muffled ‘Fuck-- Kote, I--’ is all the warning you manage to give him before you come in his mouth.

He swallows it, because he’s a fucking bastard, and you get a moment to breathe and look down at him and recover somewhat while his hand still works inside you. He looks so fucking beautiful like this, hair mussed, moving in immediately to mouth at your other hip now that his mouth’s free and your hand in his hair has fallen away. You whine as he pushes his fingers up firmly, caught between the dying light of your orgasm and the continuation of the pressing need to be filled.

‘Not done with you yet,’ he murmurs against your skin.

You nod vaguely. ‘I-- I know.’

‘Fuck, Wolffe. Wish you could see yourself.’ His eyes are flashing full gold as he looks up at you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you the rest of the way back on. ‘You know you’re fucking perfect, right?’

You whine vague agreement, not quite up to understanding him fully, and if there’s anything that’s perfect right now it’s his fingers. He’s going to get the whole hand in there before he’s done with you.  _ Manda _ you hope you’re right. He laughs, mouths you so it hums against your skin. Your cock is already waking up again and he lets go of your hip to stroke it with his other hand, firm and encouraging.

‘You smart fucking bastard,’ he continues, and fuck, you love the way you can feel him talk against you, the way his teeth get just slightly away from him to graze you. ‘I love it when I get to shut you up.’

Protests half form in your brain before tangling on themselves and falling away -- he’s the fucking lippy one -- and instead just make a noise as he gets his pinkie involved to rub at the spot at the base of your cunt. ‘Makes me feel accomplished, you know? Makes me feel close to you. You’re such a fucking fighter. It’s an honour to get to put you in your place.’

You don’t understand why that’s hot, but it is, and he’s right, and your place is second to him and no-one else. Maybe that’s why. Maybe it’s about the fact that you always fight him and both of you always know he’ll win and you do it anyway, and maybe that’s where the magic is, losing the performance, acknowledging that everyone else you fight for real. He’s honoured, and you’re beautiful, and you bask in the curling idea of being something special, and losing to him is never a loss, is it, just a conversation you have day after day about the lives you lead together; putting him in his place as the leader with just as much awful grace.

You pant and whimper as he keeps working both parts of you, refusing to establish a rhythm until suddenly he does and your noises change from ragged to cries following the pattern of his hands, four fingers, four fucking fingers inside you, not reaching as deep as you need but wrecking you for width, sobbing, moaning his name. When he gets his thumb in too and the ball of his hand presses rounded like his knot you keen and it’s not long after that you come again, whole self arched against the wall and toes curled and a strangled yell in your throat as pleasure blinds you.

He leaves his hand there, curling it in tighter and then held still, a fake knot for you as you come down. You whine and look down at him as the idea of looking at things returns to you. He’s looking up at you too, shine calmed now in his eyes, calm and confident and loving.

You run your hand through his hair again, scrape your fingers against his scalp before letting yourself sink to the floor. He moves with you, fist still in you. 'Let me know when--'

'Okay,' you agree, insides fluttering around him, and take a shaky breath. Lean your head back against the wall. '"Put me in my place,"' you snort, even though you both know what he meant and you don't have better words for it to offer him. Back to the conversation, back to the dance. You feel more normal. 'Makes you sound like some kind of  _ shabuir.' _

'I'm the worst,' he agrees, leaning in to lick and nose your cheek.

You hum. 'Glad you acknowledge it.' You're going to feel so empty when he takes his hand back. It's nice, just to be full of him, no loss felt from it being his hand instead of his cock. You lean in to meet him, lick his mouth open so you can kiss him, nice wet warm kisses with no teeth, just closeness, the low light and the patter of the shower, your tongue in his mouth.

'Feel better?' he asks, bumps your noses together while his mouth is busy talking.

'Yeah.' You still have problems you don't have names for, but they're not on your mind. You're calm and hazy. You draw him into more kisses. 'Want me to suck you off?'

He smiles against your mouth. You know just the smile, what it looks like, this little naughty grin. 'Sure. Do you want me to pull out or are we planning logistics?'

You're not in the mood for inviting things like organisation to the scene. 'Just give me a couple minutes.' You catch him for more kisses, arms draped on his shoulders. Your hand bleeds gently from where you bit it.

But you're ready, because it's occurred to you to be, and you push him back by the shoulder and he eases his hand out. You're cold with him gone, gapingly empty, but you ignore it in favour of lying down on your stomach, making him scoot backwards to fit you between him and the wall. 'I could've stood up,' he teases, booping you on the nose as you settle on your elbows in front of him. You snap at his finger. He teases it around your head for a couple moments, you trying to catch it, before taking his hand back and leaning his head into yours to touch noses. You lick his mouth.

He gives you a kiss proper before sitting back on his hands. You press a soft, wet kiss to his stomach before going for it, taking the base of his softening cock in your hand and pulling the head into your mouth. It earns you a low moan, him repositioning one of his legs. You lick up the side, take your time getting him hard again though it doesn’t take long, appreciate the low cant to his breathing and the noises he lets go, lick up a strip of salty precome before fully taking him into your mouth.

He rocks his hips into it, low moans growing louder, a climbing ‘Oh, oh, oh, oh--’ that makes you feel quite pleased with yourself, doing the things you know how to do with your tongue and your hand. One of his hands plants on your head firm, movements jerky, and his fingers curl in hard against your scalp, almost making you gag with the sudden push. But you don’t, and you keep going, push back against his hand to keep in the control he doesn’t have right now, until he comes with a cry and the strangled shape of your name.

You swallow what you can, not here to be outdone, though some spills down your chin. You catch your breath, watch him catching his. He leans back fully onto the floor with a groan. ‘Fuck, Wolffe.’

You mouth at the knot now formed at the base of his cock and are rewarded with another strangled sound so you decide to keep doing it, use your hand to cover the rest of it and listen to his ragged breathing. It’ll take him some time to reload -- one of the benefits of being an omega, you can come as many times as you damn want to -- and even though it occurs to you you’ve spent quite a while in this shower now without any actual getting clean, the idea of spending that time teasing and coaxing him into another orgasm appeals.

You glance up at him through your lashes. He’s propped up on one elbow now, watching you. ‘So how was your day?’ you ask, hand still working his knot, and grin when he groans and drops his head back.

‘You bastard.’

You bat your eyes innocently, try to hold eye contact while you mouth around him again though the angle is difficult.

‘It was good. Better now that you’re better.’ He tries to kick you, ends up thumping his leg into your side. You laugh where he can feel it. ‘22 is still being a dick.’

‘Mmn,’ you hum.

‘Not to me, just in general. 19 is spitting mad about it, how he won’t come out of his rack when anyone else is in the room. Fucking asshole can get away with it too, though apparently he’s still keeping up with lessons...’

He trails off into a breath while you play with his head and your tongue. ‘Go on.’

‘Spent a while taking the mickey out of him, anyway, fair’s fair. Dunno if he really deserves it, 17 knows that, and anyway we spent most of the time on parkour--’ You find the slit of his proto-cunt and draw your thumb across it before slipping it in, touching the walls, feeling out the small space. Switch it for a longer finger you can curl. ‘Fuck you,’ he says gently, letting his head fall back again.

‘Yes please. You have condoms?’

He laughs. ‘17 gave me some tonight. Brat. Stop teasing and I’ll fuck you when we get out.’

You give his knot a little kiss and withdraw, get up to start washing yourself. Apparently you were wrong and he was right; he is exactly what you need right now. He comes up behind you, chest pressed to your back, and reaches around you to take some soap and a cloth from the wall and start washing you. ‘I see how it is.’

‘Uh-huh. You say like you’re not actively trying to be my brat tonight.’ He leans in to kiss you.

‘You said yourself that I need this.’

He nips your cheek and gets back to washing you. You’re not really complaining. He’s warm and he’s strong and his cock is pressed against your ass and he’s all you want to think about right now. He scrubs you down efficiently, holds your fingers splayed to clean under your nails, rubs his fingers in firm against your scalp. You consider yielding to him more often.

He washes himself, and you lean back against the wall and watch. The soap covers both your scents, but you know it won’t last long. He catches your eye and grins at you, flashes you a little shine. You grin back and stick out your tongue, hoping he’ll come nip it but he doesn’t, just rolls his eyes. Instead you rub circles on one of your nipples, let the anticipation build, imagine the feeling of him inside of you.

He scruffles your hair under the dryer, makes it stand up all fluffy, and you laugh and headbutt him and roughhouse for a minute before you wind up kissing him again and he shepherds you back out the door to the barracks. A lot of people are asleep right now, racks closed with occupied signals ticked up near the rim, the lights dimmed. A few guys, Lancet and Niala and a couple others piled under them, are sleeping bunkless in a pile of bedding on the floor. You find a different hallway to find some empty racks to steal the bedding from while he roots out a condom from the stash you absolutely know the location of. Lizard and Risk are having a conversation in lowish tones nearby, leaning against the wall. You ignore them in favour of laying out a couple blankets on top of each other and letting Kote stack you some pillows to lean back on.

‘We gonna bother to keep quiet?’ he asks you in a similar low tone between tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth.

You shift around to get comfy. ‘I don’t feel like it.’

He laughs. ‘Asshole. Fine, I’ll fight everyone for you.’

‘Like you need an excuse.’

He pulls you into a kiss, drags his teeth across your lower lip, pulls away to finish putting the condom on. You play with one of your nipples and give Lizard a friendly rude gesture when he pauses his conversation to quietly catcall you, Risk snickering. Kote leans in to kiss you some more.

You make out for a while, wanting him but enjoying the wanting, enjoying the growing need, rutting up your hips against his, moaning as he moves down to kiss your neck. With his head there you catch sight of Lizard and Risk now joined by Skylark and Praeda, watching you lazily while gossiping, Skylark palming Risk through his blacks. 'Sure you want to waste your shot before the show?' you catcall, breath catching in a gasp at the end as Kote grinds his hips, pressing your erections together.

'Don't mind us now,' Praeda responds, leaning with his arm on Risk's shoulder, the latter snickering softly, cutting off as Skylark kisses him. Kote bites you sharply on the neck.

'Fuck me then,' you tell him, both expecting and thrilled by him pulling back from kissing you to slot your hips on top of his, hands broad and firm on your thighs. You laugh at his alacrity, quickly cut off by him pressing in. You moan to more snickering from your audience.

He puts his face back close to yours, body arched above yours, hands on your hips to control the tempo, forehead to forehead. He's still finding the right angle but it still feels so good, you loose but him still filling you, rubbing against your walls, the warmth of contact, the flood of endorphins. 'Better,' you pant as you realise you again no longer want to pay attention to anything but him.

He catches your mouth for a kiss and scrapes your lower lip bloody on his fangs. 'Good,' he growls, and fuck, that tone of voice, desperate and deep, and shifts his hips and you moan loud, lost in it, rocking with him.

'Fuck, yes, like that, fuck, faster--' one of your legs hooked around his, warm skin on warm skin, sweaty again after your shower, his arms now framing your head, his voice joining yours, long noises compared to your now short ones, both of you panting, fuck, fuck, him fucking filling you, hitting the parts his fingers couldn't reach, and you sob with it, this is so fucking perfect so fucking everything, this is all you want--

Someone slams his head down, partially pulls him off you with a snarl. He snarls back and you do too, scrambling up to lunge at who turns out to be Yanny's shins, toppling him. 'I was fucking sleeping!' he yells and then yelps because you sink your teeth into his leg. He kicks you in the face, which you really should've expected, and Kote pins him, snarling.

Your nose is bleeding. You stand up to tackle Starlight, who has dropped from a rack to Yanny's aid, slam him back against the wall and get another rack sliding open in protest. The two of you scuffle above and occasionally stepping on Kote and Yanny, the former of whom has his teeth clamped around the latter's neck, forcing him into a mercy. Praeda is wrestling with Juno somewhere to your left.

'Be fucking quiet, asshole,' Starlight hisses as he elbows your already bleeding face, but then Kote has him in a chokehold.

'No,' you say, grinning at him.

Kote barks loudly, echoing around the space. 'Fuck off! You dare challenge me? You dare challenge what my second needs?'

Everyone around you falls quiet. Kote releases Starlight and hauls him off you, then pounds his own chest with a fist in challenge. A lot of racks are open, brothers watching the commotion, sound starting up again quiet after Kote's announcement, laughter at the others' expense, or rolled eyes and shut drawers. Nobody takes him up on it. Praeda and Lizard release Juno. Ponds claps sarcastically from a fifth row rack and Kote flips him off.

You don't feel bad about disturbing the others' sleep because you don't really feel bad about anything right now, heady on endorphins and how much you want Kote to finish fucking you. He turns to you and wipes blood from your face, leans in close. ‘You okay,  _ vod?’ _

‘Fine.’ You rub your nose against his but find that hurts, frown. ‘Maybe not. But I’m not hurt badly.’

Kote grabs Starlight by the scruff of his blacks. ‘Get him a towel and water.’ He releases him with a shove. Starlight spits a noise but goes. Kote leads you by the upper arm to sit in your now very askew nest, fixes it around you until Starlight comes back and then takes the items he requested. ‘Go to bed,’ he barks to the room at large. ‘Or don’t. But I’m caring for Wolffe right now.’

Again, your brief urge to feel bad for being an asshole is quelled by the heat of the moment and the fact that any number of these bastards are also assholes on any given evening. You let him wipe the blood off your face, grinning, which at least doesn’t hurt your nose too badly, and clean the wound with water. He smirks at you. ‘Bastard.’

You flutter your eyelashes. ‘You say the nicest things.’

‘I don’t think this is too badly damaged,’ he says, touching your nose gently. ‘It should heal on its own.’ He gives you water to drink, runs a hand through your hair while you do, then finishes it off when you hand it back. He sets the empty thermos aside with the towel and takes one of your thighs to position you back into his lap, you moving with him to lean back onto the pile while he kisses you.

‘You didn’t get hurt, did you?’ you ask between kisses.

‘No. I’m good.’ You hear the strangled cry of Risk coming, that lot also gone back to their business and deepen the kiss, settling back into focusing on your own unbroken arousal. You love this close dark space of your faces close together in the low light, the smell of him already rich again, mingling with the smell of soap, some pain in your face, the sound of brothers you don’t need to pay attention to in the background, eyes closed then with his tongue in your mouth, languid and hungry. Your hand on his side, warm strong muscle and fat and the silky indents of stretch marks. Again, you want him in you again but you love to just kiss and want too, heady on the fight. You don’t need him to fight for you, don’t feel thrilled or honoured, but it sure is always  _ fun. _

So you let him pick when and it’s soon, manhandling your hips again, and you make a muffled noise into the kiss. ‘Impatient,’ you pant out as he figures into a similar rhythm as before, fucking, oh fuck, yeah, you fucking want this.

‘Look who’s-- talking--’ you’re very pleased he also sounds ragged, readjusting downwards to kiss and scrape your neck and shoulder, and then he’s grabbed your cock again, thumb rubbing over the head before he slides his hand down it.

You moan. ‘N--not fair, not fair, holy fuck--’ You arch your body against his, rocking your hips counterpoint to his and he’s hitting places deep inside you, filling you up, already so fucking turned on by everything, and you keen and whine and fuck fuck fuck fuck, your third orgasm of the night and you hope he has to drag it from you, hope this doesn’t end, mind blanking out on pleasure, full to moaning, clinging to him, finding his mouth to kiss it desperately,  _ ‘Vod, _ Kote, fuck, Kote,’ trying to hold on for a few more moments of this, his hitching cries, you know he’s close too, fuck the  _ Manda _ if it isn’t just this--

He comes with a long cry, his knot inflating inside you, and the sudden press too-big filling you pushes you over the edge, and you cry out too, delicious and desperate, arching against his warm heavy weight collapsed on top of you, blitzed out in one perfect moment.

You pant, catching your breath, still holding onto him but arms loosened. ‘Finally,’ someone says. You feel Kote raise one of his arms to hold up a rude gesture and laugh raggedly against him.

‘Mmn,’ he says, snuggling down against you, nuzzling into the pillows over your shoulder, his head against yours. ‘Good?’

‘What was your first clue?’ you murmur. He licks the inside of your ear. You make a face he can’t see.


End file.
